


Speechless

by athletiger



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Love, M/M, POV First Person, POV Steve Rogers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 19:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17792951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athletiger/pseuds/athletiger
Summary: You finally show up into the communal kitchen after a fifty-two hour binge in your workshop, smelling of gold-titanium alloy. Your hair is matted and limp, grease stains mark your ratted ACDC t-shirt, down your arms, and somehow streaked across your face too. Your eyes are wild and utterly focused on the coffee pot; you ignore me.Still, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You sigh happily into your mug, and I smile indulgently because you’re right there, and watching you is all that I can do.





	Speechless

**Author's Note:**

> I've been obsessively listening to Chevel Shepard's (from the Voice) rendition of "Speechless." Coupled with the fact that I had a mental breakdown irl, I present to you a self-indulgent fic for Valentine's Day.

Every time you walk into the room, I’m speechless.

You finally show up into the communal kitchen after a fifty-two hour binge in your workshop, smelling of gold-titanium alloy. Your hair is matted and limp, grease stains mark your ratted ACDC t-shirt, down your arms, and somehow streaked across your face too. Your eyes are wild and utterly focused on the coffee pot; you ignore me.

Still, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You sigh happily into your mug, and I smile indulgently because you’re right there, and watching you is all that I can do.

Your hand combs through your hair, and now your hair has grease in it too. God, you know that you’re my weakness.

Finally you look up and see me staring. You give me a grin. It’s nothing like your publicity smile; it’s a small gesture, but it’s a genuine one, and my heart melts when you look at me with those eyes.

“What are you looking at, Rogers?” you ask, although you already know, baby.

My grin grows even wider, and my heart pounds in my chest. “Just watchin’ my man,” I drawl, letting my old Brooklyn accent slip in, in the way I know that gets you hot under the collar. As always, it works, and a dash of red stain your cheeks. You duck your head shyly, hiding behind your mug.

“You’re perfect too,” you mumble.

And oh, that’s not right. I get down from my kitchen stool and walk over to you, plucking your mug from your hands and ignoring your feeble protests as I set the mug down back on the island counter. I grab your flailing hands, weave my fingers between yours. Finally, you look up with your shiny honey-brown eyes. It reminds me of a doe’s eyes, and I swallow nervously.

Wow. Even after so many years, you never stop taking my breath away. Your plump lips are slightly parted, and I can’t help myself but tilt my head down and press my lips against yours. You take the breath out of my lungs and I can’t even fight it.

I finally pull away, although I am reluctant to do so, and you’re so perfect. “I love you.”

There’s going to be flowers and a date in your workshop because it’s Valentine’s Day. But I don’t even care that you’re not dressed up – I just want you. I want you every day…I never tire of you. You give me a smile back, and you tell me, “I love you too.”

And that’s all that matters.


End file.
